


Children of the Sea

by MaiKusakabe



Series: Children of the Sea [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Ace's self-worth issues, F/M, Families of Choice, Female Marco, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 11:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7889047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaiKusakabe/pseuds/MaiKusakabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ace just wanted to kill Whitebeard, nothing else. Unfortunately, these assholes insisted on being decent to him until he started to doubt even the simplest concepts in his life. Oh, and for some reason his hormones had decided Marco was the best thing in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the continuation of “The Meaning of Family” I talked about at the end of that story. I’d like to make something clear because I’m not sure I explained it last time: this story takes place 40+ years after the first one, starting a couple months into Ace’s assassin days. As such, there is no struggle INSIDE the crew about Marco being a woman, though some issues on the subject will appear in the story here and there. I’d like to address the years in-between at some point, where there were some more notorious problems, but before I do that I want to have more information on the Whitebeard Pirates’ journey (because there are only so many timelines I can make up from scratch on my own).
> 
> This story is pretty self-indulgent, really, but there ARE some issues I’m addressing here, only that they are aimed more at the readers than the characters. Have I confused you enough? :) Well, let’s see how this goes.
> 
> (Note that, while I have a massive amount of plot for the story, I don’t promise regular updates.)
> 
> And thanks a lot to KohanaTrustMe for checking I didn’t mess up horribly and dealing with my whining over this story :) (And the title, let’s not forget the title)

Marco crossed her arms and subjected Thatch to her most unimpressed stare, completely ignoring the tray he had just offered to her.

“Why can’t you do it yourself?”

“It’s safer if you do it. He can’t hurt you, even if he snaps,” he said, so eloquent that, given the hesitation with which he had approached her at first, Marco knew it was rehearsed.

She scoffed.

“That kid’s half dead, even you could take him on now.”

Surprisingly enough, Thatch didn’t react to the jab at his fighting skills.

“That’s the problem!” he snapped instead, slamming the tray on the kitchen table. The soup sloshed over the edge of the bowl. “The kid won’t accept food, and I’ve _tried_! He sneaks into the pantry at night, but it’s not good enough. He’s lost a lot of weight since Pops brought him on board.” Thatch threw his hands up in frustration.

Marco sighed. While she hadn’t noticed any weight loss, she _had_ realized that Ace’s attempts on Pops’ life lacked energy lately, but she had attributed it to exhaustion and, hopefully, Ace starting to consider the possibility of giving up. She had known Ace stole food from the pantry, the entire crew did, but it hadn’t occurred to her that it might not be enough.

“What makes you think I’ll be more successful? And if you say boobs…”

Thatch grinned and gave her one of his fake lewd once overs.

“Maybe if you put on shorts and more cleavage…” Marco raised a meaningful fist and he backtracked, waving both hands in surrender. “But no, it’s not that. I don’t really expect him to listen to you, but you’re the only one who could force-feed him even if he was trying to burn you alive.”

Marco blinked.

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me.”

“Just look at him!” Thatch exclaimed in renewed frustration.

 

* * *

 

 

Unfortunately, Thatch had a point. Marco was present for Ace’s next assassination attempt, and while everybody laughed and commented on the beautiful way he had flown across the deck until he ended up sprawled against an iron railing (too many wooden ones had been destroyed lately), Marco observed him.

Ace didn’t jump to his feet immediately the way he would have the first two months and, while he didn’t take long, it gave Marco enough time to realize that, despite his muscles, she could see his ribs.

After Ace stormed off, she sought Thatch out in the crowd and nodded.

She would try.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’ll kill yourself at this rate.”

Ace jumped up and turned around to face the speaker, falling into a fighting stance.

Marco the Phoenix stood in the doorway of the storeroom he had taken over three days ago, a tray laden with delicious-smelling food balanced on her left hand.

“I don’t want your pity,” Ace snapped, glaring at her. That asshole Thatch had been trying to entice him with food this whole time, and now it seemed he had thought a nicer body would do the trick.

“This isn’t pity, it’s just us making sure you don’t kill yourself.”

“I won’t. Get that shit away from me.”

Marco shook her head, and Ace had the impression she was calling him a few uncomplimentary things in her mind. He readied himself to attack.

“You don’t want to do that,” she said calmly. “Right now you have two options: you can stop being an idiot and eat this willingly, or I can knock you out, handcuff you with kairoseki, and force-feed you.”

Ace scoffed.

“You’ve got something coming if you think I’d eat that way.”

Marco smiled.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll find something that works. I’m willing to try even mouth to mouth if that gets you to start eating.”

Ace froze and stared at her, unsure if he had really heard that right. His eyes trailed involuntarily down to her cleavage because, damn, it had been _months_ and Marco was hot, even with that weird pineapple hairstyle of hers.

Ace’s stomach rumbled and he felt his face heat up.

Marco chuckled.

“So, which will it be?”

Ace made a point of glaring at her before plopping down on the floor. He was fully aware that he had about the same chances to beat her than he did Whitebeard.

With a smile that was just this side of being smug enough to make Ace say “fuck it” and attack anyway, Marco bent down to place the tray before him.

Ace’s eyes slid to her cleavage again. It really had been too long.

Marco gave him a knowing smile (Ace _did not blush_ ) and sat down in front of him.

“What? You gonna make sure I eat it?”

“Yes. And next time Thatch tries to feed you, accept it or we’ll have a _talk_.”

Ace _didn’t_ think of her handcuffs threat. She hadn’t meant it that way.

Fucking hormones.

 

* * *

 

 

Ace was now accepting Thatch’s offers of food, which was good. The bad side of the incident, though saying it was annoying would be more accurate, was that now everybody had decided recurring to Marco was the best way to get past Ace’s stubbornness.

“Seriously, Marco, just take it to him. The kid’s been sleeping on hard wood for months, that can’t be helping his condition,” Jozu insisted, offering her the mattress, blankets, and pillows —which were easy for him to handle, but were larger than Marco. Looking at him, nobody would guess that Jozu was actually a softy when he wasn’t facing an enemy.

Marco rolled her eyes.

“Jozu,” she stressed, simply to make sure he understood just how ridiculous she found the request, “I grew up sleeping on hard wood. Trust me, he’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t having the crap beaten out of you every day while you did… were you?” Jozu suddenly asked with suspicion. Marco rolled her eyes again; while it was true she rarely spoke of the time before she met Pops, _that_ was quite a stretch for Jozu to think it.

“No, I wasn’t.”

“See? He _is_. That can’t be good.” And with that, Jozu dropped everything next to her and hurried away before she could get past her shock long enough to tell him she _wasn’t_ doing it.

Marco looked down to the pile of bedding and shook her head.

 

* * *

 

 

Ace was startled awake by a loud knock on the door of his newly occupied room in one of the lower decks of the ship.

“Ace? I heard you move.”

He had no problem recognizing that voice as Marco’s and cursed under his breath.

 _How did she—?_ He cut himself off. Of course she had found him, she must be a haki user. There went Ace’s efforts of finding a new hideout. How many haki users were on this ship, anyway?

“What do you want?” he snapped, sounding as awake as he could manage. He hadn’t refused any of the food Thatch had brought him since her visit last week (and he had to admit, if only to himself, that the food was _good_ , and he felt with more energy now, not that he would tell anyone), so there was no reason for her to pay him another visit.

“Open the door and you’ll know.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll kick it in and _you_ will repair it,” Marco said calmly, and Ace had no doubt that she would do it. By now he had heard enough about Marco to know she followed through with her threats.

Ace stood up with a growl and made sure to put on his best snarl before opening the door. Something slammed into him the moment he did, and he fell on his back. Before he could set anything on fire, which he almost did, he realized he had been attacked by a mattress. Two pillows fell by his side, and there were a couple blankets, too.

“…The hell?” was the most eloquent question he could come up with.

“Jozu hunted those down for you.”

Ace pushed the mattress to one side and sat up, glaring at Marco.

“I don’t need this.”

Marco smiled in amusement and crouched down before him, her arms crossed over her bare knees (who the hell wore a fucking miniskirt on a pirate ship?).

“Do I have to stay to make sure you use them?” she asked softly, far softer than she had ever spoken to him before, and Ace’s face burned at the mental image.

“NO!”

She chuckled.

“Like I would. Jozu worries too much, but this isn’t like food: sleeping on the floor won’t kill you.” She stood up and smoothed her hands over her skirt. Ace followed her movements. “Whatever you do with that is up to you. _But_ don’t set it on fire.”

And she left. If Ace leaned past the doorframe to watch her go, well, he blamed hormones. She was hot, and Ace was sure she knew he did it: if it bothered her, he was sure she would kick him out of the ship. Literally.

Marco waved at him over her shoulder before disappearing around the corner.

Ace looked around at the scattered bedding, remembered her words, and covered his face with a newly acquired pillow to drown a groan.

Fucking _hormones_.

He needed to take over an empty bathroom.

 

* * *

 

 

It was approaching the time they started to serve dinner in the mess hall and Ace still hadn’t shown his face today. Ace’s average murder attempts per day were two, and the first one always occurred in the early hours of the morning.

The crew was understandably worried.

“Well, he’s not dead. He’s still in that room of his,” Vista said for the third time that day. That was another reason they were worried, because usually Ace only hid in that room to sleep or to nurse his pride after a failed attempt. And the second had never lasted more than a couple hours. The rest of the time he wandered the ship, probably trying to come up with new murder methods.

“Maybe he’s sick?” Haruta suggested. “He just fell to the sea last time, but there were no wounds, so he can’t be that hurt.”

“Sick?” Izo asked incredulously. “I doubt that brat’s body _knows_ how to be sick.”

Marco sighed in exasperation when everybody turned to look at her.

“No. You’re the ones worried; I just think he’s sulking because he failed _five_ attempts yesterday. If you’re worried about being roasted, take Jozu to play shield; he’s sure adopted him already.”

“But he’s more likely to tell you if anything’s wrong,” Thatch pointed out, waggling his eyebrows.

Marco scoffed.

“You’re an idiot if you think he’ll open up to me just because he has a crush. He’s too stubborn, and I’m still ‘the enemy’.”

A long silence followed her statement.

“Wait,” Izo said finally, pointing at her, “you _knew_ Ace has a crush on you?”

Marco ignored the money passing hands around a few places on deck and shrugged.

“I’m not _blind_ , Izo. Subtlety isn’t Ace’s forte.”

Now it was Izo who scoffed, and Marco took it as an acceptance of her point.

“He doesn’t have to open up to you. Just check he’s fine, okay?” Thatch said, jumping to his feet. “Wait a sec.” He rushed into the mess hall.

Marco sighed.

“Well, since apparently you guys have decided I’m Ace’s babysitter,” she started, and waited until she spotted a few relieved smiles and high-fives before continuing, “you’ll have to pay me for the job. So,” she stood up, brushing her pants off and ignoring the incredulous stares aimed at her, “until… let’s say two months after Ace agrees to join the crew, I don’t care how you do it, but _you guys_ have all my guard duty shifts,” she said, gesturing to the other commanders (she understood anyone else not wanting to face Ace’s temper, but in his current state most commanders could beat him with relative ease). “And, Pops? You’re in charge of the supplies for that time period.”

Pops laughed.

“I’m the captain: you don’t get to order me around, brat.”

Marco shrugged.

“Either that or I’m banning booze from the ship.”

She left the deck in a riot and headed to the mess hall to collect whatever massive amount of food Thatch had put together for Ace. She couldn’t feasibly leave such a large crew without booze, not when it took a group of twenty people to do the shopping and they would all try to sneak it on board, but it wouldn’t be the first time she had made sure every single bottle they bought was the right size for her hand. Getting drunk on tiny little bottles was complicated and extremely annoying for Pops, and Marco knew he didn’t want to repeat the experience.

 

* * *

 

 

This time, the door wasn’t locked when Marco reached it. She wasn’t sure how she had expected to find Ace (maybe bent over an axe or a makeshift map of the ship), but lying curled into a ball on the mattress wasn’t it. He was visibly startled when she pushed the door open, but didn’t raise his head or move at all to look at her. He looked surprisingly vulnerable like that.

“What have I done this time?” he asked, lacking the usual bite his voice had when anyone approached him.

“Nothing. That’s actually why I’m here,” she said, placing Thatch’s basket on the floor next to the mattress, “shouldn’t you have crashed through a couple walls by now?”

Ace snorted.

“I don’t feel like it today.”

“Oh? Did it finally get through that thick skull of yours that this is never going to work?”

This time Ace raised his head enough to glare up at her, but Marco didn’t pay that look any mind. Instead, she noticed Ace’s eyes were bloodshot, as if he hadn’t slept tonight… or had been crying.

“Like hell,” Ace snapped.

“Are you okay?” Marco asked, ignoring him.

“Yeah, now fuck off,” he said, and turned his back to her. “If you want me to kill the old man, I’ll do it tomorrow.”

Marco went back to the door, closed it, and sat next to Ace’s feet on the mattress.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” he said. Said, not snapped, which pretty much was an admission of something being wrong for him.

“Oh, sure. Do you have a habit of curling into a ball and feeling sorry for yourself, then? Because it’s not as if any—“ She had to stop to block Ace’s punch, grabbing Ace’s fist with her hand. She met Ace’s glare head on.

“I’m not feeling sorry for myself,” he hissed. As angry as he looked, it was much closer to what she was used to seeing from him.

“Then?” Marco asked, not letting go of his fist.

“What do you care? You’re just here because they sent you.”

“Not exactly,” she said, keeping her voice light. “While I’m against coddling you, I _do_ care. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. And it’s obvious there is something wrong with you.” She could admit that she had been wrong in her original assessment of Ace just sulking. By now, she was convinced something bad was going on in that head of his.

Ace’s eyes widened —why, Marco had no idea— and he tugged on his fist. After holding on for an extra second, she let him go.

“I’m fine, okay?” Ace insisted, dropping back to lie on his back. He ran a hand over his face. “I just wasn’t expecting it to hit me so hard. It’d been getting better over the years. I guess I should’ve expected between all this bullshit and not having Luffy around it would be worse this time.”

“Luffy?” Marco asked, figuring that asking about what sounded like the most innocuous part of that statement was her best bet to get Ace to open up. Had Izo been wrong and Ace was actually sick, after all? They knew about the narcolepsy, it had given them a few scares at first, but still…

“My little brother,” Ace said, and a tiny smile pulled at his lips. He removed the hand from his face and looked up at the ceiling. “He’s a crazy little shit.”

“So, like you.”

“Nah,” Ace said, and it was the first time Marco saw something approaching a grin on his face; it looked good on him, “Luffy’s brand of craziness is different. He would never try to kill someone this way.”

“Is he the reasonable brother, then?”

Ace burst out laughing.

Marco took that as a no, but she didn’t pay much attention to that because _Ace was laughing_. Ace had never laughed, it had reached the point where some people had started to joke that his facial expressions only ranged from annoyed frowns to murderous glares. And yet here he was: first a smile, then a grin, and now laughter. It was a beautiful sound.

“Luffy? _Reasonable_?” Ace managed to get out in between his laughter. “Nah, the reasonable brother was…” he trailed off, any traces of amusement suddenly gone from his face and voice. Ace’s eyes had darkened. “It was Sabo. He died. It’s been seven years today.”

 _Oh_.

Marco’s eyes slid to the tattoo on Ace’s left upper arm. It was completely visible now that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. She had wondered about it, like half the crew, but most people had dismissed the crossed out S as a typo that had gotten the tattoo artist killed or maybe a statement of some sort. It _was_ a statement, it would seem, just a much more serious one than any theory Marco had heard.

Marco placed her hand on the tattoo, and Ace looked up at her, surprised.

“Would you like to talk about it? I hear… that sometimes talking helps.”

Ace sighed, and his eyes focused back on the ceiling.

“I don’t even know how to begin.”

“I’d usually say the beginning, but…” What was the beginning with a brother? At least, what was the beginning with most brothers?

“The beginning? Yeah, I guess that works. I met Sabo when we were both five. I used to live with these mountain bandits Gramps had blackmailed into taking me in…”

Once he started, it was as if Ace couldn’t stop talking. Marco sat there throughout the whole story, her hand still on the tattoo, and she pretended she didn’t notice it when Ace started to cry and covered his eyes with his right arm in an attempt to hide it.

 

* * *

 

 

“He’s not sick,” she said hours later, once she stepped foot into the mess hall again. Dinner was practically over by then, only a few plates remained accompanied by lots of booze (whenever Marco threatened to take it away, the crew reacted by getting extremely drunk).

“Then?” Izo asked, patting the bench space next to him. There was a full plate waiting for her, but Marco wasn’t sure she wanted to eat at all.

“He’s promised to go back to his murder attempts tomorrow. Just leave it at that, okay?” She wasn’t going to repeat Ace’s story. She expected Ace would be mortified about having shared it at all by tomorrow.

Ignoring Izo’s invitation, Marco left for her cabin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About the anniversary of Sabo’s “death”, I’ve always headcanoned it as happening during Ace’s assassin days. Here’s the reasoning:
> 
> Both Sabo and Ace were 10 by the time they met Luffy, which means the meeting was after March 20th (Sabo’s birthday; Ace’s is on January 1st). There were a few months in between them meeting and Sabo’s near death, because amongst the many scenes of them living together we see snow. So I think it was sometime in November-December. Now, both Ace and Luffy set sail at 17, likely on their birthdays, and it took the Strawhat Pirates some five months to reach Sabaody, but they cut through the first part of Paradise on their quest to Alabasta. Ace would have taken longer, and he wandered the New World for a while before meeting the Whitebeard Pirates, at least enough to locate Shanks first, so let’s say the meeting with the Whitebeard Pirates happened sometime on late September-early October. Two months later, the current time on the story, would be late November or early December.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a lot for all the comments :) I’m really glad to see this story is getting a positive welcome so far (let’s say “nervous” falls short to describe how I feel posting this xD). Here I come with chapter two, let’s see how it goes.
> 
> Again, thanks a lot to KohanaTrustMe for helping check this out :)

Marco hadn’t been wrong in her assessment. While Ace _did_ go for Pops’ head first thing the next morning (in the mess hall; there was another wall to be repaired now), when he saw her waiting by the place where Namur dropped him after fishing him out of the sea, Ace glared at her before storming off, looking like an angry and drenched cat.

“What’s his problem?” Thatch asked. He obediently stepped out of the way so Rakuyo could walk by pulling an end of their longest measuring tape. It had been an impressive flight, and an anonymous suicidal idiot had started a scrapbook of Ace’s murder attempts after the second week. Copies of pages of the book appeared at random on the mess hall tables for the crew’s enjoyment.

“He’s angry at himself,” Marco replied, whistling when she saw the measured distance to the railing. Haruta was questioning Namur about the exact distance from the ship where he had found Ace. That data would be added to a tiny blackboard next to the wanted posters’ mural for the author of the book to collect.

“Really? That looked like he was angry at you.”

Marco shrugged and headed back to the mess hall and her interrupted breakfast. Thatch followed her.

“He told me something yesterday, and he’s angry about it now.”

“Oh? And what did our little firecracker say?” Thatch leaned close to Marco. “Did he confess? Is that it? He’s angry because you said no?”

Marco scoffed, but decided to use the outlet Thatch had just provided to get him to stop pestering her.

Marco stopped and spun around to face Thatch, making him stop as well.

“If he had, I wouldn’t be here now. I’d be sleeping the night off.” Thatch gaped, and his mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish out of water. Marco smirked and went for the finishing strike. “Or I would be doing a repeat performance.”

She walked away from a spluttering Thatch, chuckling to herself and shaking her head. For a hardened pirate, self-proclaimed ladies’ man, and the guy who had asked Marco what girls _really_ liked when he was fourteen, Thatch was ridiculously easy to fluster sometimes. According to his own words, because he had always seen Marco as his older sister there were some things he just didn’t want to imagine her doing.

 

* * *

 

 

A week after their conversation, Ace’s murder attempts had gone down to one per day, and he looked like he wasn’t getting enough sleep. Before anyone could ask her to check on him, Marco grabbed the basked Thatch had prepared for Ace’s next meal and went hunting for him. She had waited two hours since his last attempt, hoping he would have cooled down somewhat by now.

He didn’t glare particularly heatedly for his standards at her when she barged into the room, and she took it as a good sign.

“So, what’s the issue? Are you having trouble sleeping?”

“No.”

Marco raised her eyebrows and looked pointedly at the dark circles under his eyes, but didn’t bother to say anything.

Giving her a more convincing glare this time, Ace reached a hand out for the basket. Marco relinquished it.

“It’s not that, okay? And what do you care anyway? I’m back to trying to kill the old geezer, shouldn’t you be happy?” Ace said all of this while stuffing his face at an impressive speed. The only reason Marco understood him at all was her vast experience with nonexistent table manners.

“Oh, I’m thrilled,” Marco deadpanned. “But lack of sleep can kill you.” She _doubted_ Ace would reach that point, she was reasonably sure that his narcolepsy made it practically impossible, but it didn’t mean there wouldn’t be other effects.

“I’m _narcoleptic_ ,” Ace enunciated slowly. He was already done with the food. Somehow.

“So you can’t die _from_ lack of sleep. But today you would’ve avoided falling into the sea if you had been in top form. Fighting a _real_ enemy, that could have been your end.”

Ace glared at her, but Marco ignored it and took a step forward to look at him closely. Those clothes hadn’t been in the best of shapes before, but after the latest trip into the ocean…

“You really should grab a change of clothes and go take a shower.” She looked down at the mess that had become the room’s floor since Ace had given up on his attempts to hide from them. “Do you even _have_ anything clean?”

“Uhm…” Ace looked around the floor, too, rubbing the back of his neck as he did. “No, I don’t think I do.”

Marco sighed, completely unsurprised that Ace had neglected something as trivial as clean clothes in favor of murder.

“Why don’t you go take an extra-long shower while I bring all your stuff to the closest laundry room?” Which wasn’t all that close, because Ace had found one of the most isolated areas of the ship to set camp, but well. “I’ll even bring it back to you once it’s done so you can get dressed.”

Ace was giving her a funny look.

“Laundry room?”

Marco blinked. Twice and very slowly.

“…Ace, how, exactly, have you been washing your clothes?” Because he owned very little —all of it smuggled to him by his old crew— and she would have noticed it long ago if he didn’t wash it at all.

“The sink.”

Marco sighed.

“Give me everything. From the bed too. And we’re going to the bathroom: you’ll take those clothes off and give them to me as well.”

 

* * *

 

 

This was so surreal that Ace hadn’t even thought of opposing it. Marco — _Marco the Phoenix_ — was ordering him around to take care of his laundry.

Admittedly, Ace hadn’t been doing that very well on his own, but still. _Marco_.

They had just reached the mostly unused bathroom, and Ace hesitated about what to do next.

“If you feel more comfortable,” Marco said, “you can get into one of the stalls and throw your clothes over the wall.”

Ace placed his meager bag of toiletries next to a sink and turned around to face her.

“Why? You scared of seeing me naked?”

Marco smirked, which helped relax Ace somewhat. That was more what he was used to seeing from her.

“Not at all. If you want to give me a show, by all means, go ahead.”

So Ace did. Or, well, he tried. While he had been with a decent amount of women during his months of piracy prior to his arrival on the Moby Dick, he had only paid attention to the part where they took their clothes off to do it as quickly as possible. Still, by the time he was done Marco was looking him up and down and she even licked her lower lip, so he called it a success.

“Nice,” she said, her eyes falling between his legs. Ace grinned. While there wasn’t much else that could be said in his favor, he at least knew many people found him hot.

“You want a go?” Ace offered, not joking at all despite his best attempt at sounding offhand.

“Maybe later,” Marco replied, her eyes trailing up his torso until she finally met his eyes. Ace was pretty sure that look was where expressions like ‘eye fucking’ came from. “Clothes?” asked Marco, extending her free hand.

“Oh, yeah.” Ace bent down to pick up his discarded clothes and offered them to Marco. “How long will this take, anyway?” He hadn’t even thought of asking, with the general weirdness of the situation.

“At most, maybe two hours,” Marco replied as she added the clothes to the small pile under her left arm.

“ _TWO HOURS_?!” Ace exclaimed, taken aback. “What the hell am I supposed to do for two hours?!”

Marco shrugged.

“You could try to see if a long shower does something for all that tension of yours.” She started walking to the door. “I don’t know; plot your next move or something.” She opened the door and threw in another word before closing it after herself. “Masturbate.”

Ace blushed the way he hadn’t while he undressed. He looked down at his half hard cock.

“That’s an idea.”

 

* * *

 

 

This particular laundry room was considered one of the easiest chore shifts on the Moby Dick. There weren’t many bedrooms nearby, and as suck it usually didn’t have much of a workload. Marco was thus unsurprised to find the guys working there playing a board game. Something that involved miniature marine ships.

“Oi, commander, wanna join us?” She was offered a replica of Garp’s personal warship.

Marco chuckled.

“Sorry, I can’t. I bring you work.” She ignored the fake groans of protest and dropped her load on a worktop. “This is Ace’s, so you should probably be careful.”

“ _Ace’s_?”

They hurried over to look through the pile of clothes, as if it suddenly was the most interesting thing in the world.

“How the hell did you get him to agree?”

“I tied him up in a closet,” Marco muttered, earning some chuckles. “Are there any clean towels around here?” Because of course Ace didn’t have one.

 

* * *

 

 

When Marco returned to the bathroom fifteen minutes later, the water was running. She didn’t think she imagined the thud that followed her entrance, though.

“An hour and a half. And I brought you a towel,” she said, throwing said towel on the bench.

“O-Okay,” Ace replied, his voice off. _Flustered_.

A smirk tugged on Marco’s lips.

“Did I interrupt something?”

“NO!” Ace yelled hurriedly. He was a terrible liar.

“Oh? Then you weren’t serious earlier when you offered me a go?”

There was a long silence, only interrupted by the still running shower, before Ace replied.

“And what if I was?”

Marco smiled and reached up to undo the knot holding her shirt up around her neck.

“Then I’d ask you if I can join you in there.” She definitely didn’t imagine Ace’s groan. He turned the water off. The two buttons down at the small of her back followed.

“Go ahead,” Ace said.

Marco quickly unbuckled her belt and stepped out of her shorts and knickers. Kicking her sandals off took an annoying total of twenty seconds because of the damn straps.

She padded over through the bathroom until she reached the last stall and stopped at the opening. Ace was standing there, naked, wet, and completely hard, his cock held in his right hand.

He stared at her, his eyes running hungrily up and down her body. Part of Marco wondered if that gaze was because of her, or simply because of the forced abstinence of the past few months. She didn’t care.

“You coming in or what?” Ace asked, sounding breathless.

Marco smiled and walked forward, making a point of swaying her hips in a way she rarely bothered to do. Ace’s eyes were glued to them.

“So, are you going to fuck me or what?” she asked, mimicking him.

Marco managed to hold onto Ace’s shoulders before her back hit the wall, Ace pressed against her, kissing her hard and wet, his tongue exploring her mouth enthusiastically. She returned the kiss just as passionately as she was receiving it, pushing her hips against Ace’s and feeling his cock rub against her hip.

One of Ace’s hands slid down until he could grab one of her breasts. However, he didn’t seem in the mood for prolonging things. Neither was she, really; she had been wet ever since his clumsy little show earlier.

“I was imagining I made you beg,” Ace muttered against her mouth in between kisses, “but I don’t think I can wait that long.”

“Later,” Marco said. She used her leverage on Ace’s shoulders to push herself up the wall until she could wrap her legs around Ace’s hips. Pushing forward, she felt Ace’s cock rub against her clit, and they both groaned.

Ace reached down with a hand and soon was pushing into Marco. She muffled a moan into Ace’s neck and, the moment she felt he was going to remain still, she frowned and started moving herself.

“Sorry,” Ace said with a chuckle, but obediently started to thrust, “I got used to do that.”

“You’ve been defiling many virgins?” Marco asked teasingly. The angle was good, just not quite… She lowered herself slightly and moaned out loud. _Much better_.

“A few,” Ace said. He moved his hands under Marco’s ass to hold onto her better and started to thrust faster.

“I’m no virgin.”

“I know,” he breathed out.

 

* * *

 

 

Ace wasn’t sure what had gotten into him. As he had done lately whenever he couldn’t explain his behavior around Marco, he blamed hormones. And his dick. His dick held a good deal of blame right now.

The first time he could explain from a mix of his abstinence, his crush on Marco, and the way they had been so open to one another. But then they had started showering and before he knew it they had been making out like… well, like the teenager he was, really.

Ace had expected to feel awkward once Marco brought his things back, but instead he had surprised himself by saying that the poor sheets had never seen any fun.

And now here he was, with Marco naked and wrapped over his chest, asleep, while he couldn’t shut his brain enough to do the same. Or, more accurately, he couldn’t go _back_ to sleep. He had woken up after what couldn’t have been more than two or three hours of sleep to find Marco’s head on his shoulder.

“I can hear you thinking.” Or, well, apparently Marco wasn’t so asleep after all. She sat up and looked down at him (she was the first woman he had been with who didn’t become shy afterwards and attempted to cover herself; the blankets were still neatly folded on the floor). “Having regrets about sleeping with the enemy?”

Ace scoffed. That sentence sounded even more ridiculous said out loud than it had in his head whenever he thought something like that.

“It’d be easier if I did, but no.” Ace sighed and crossed his arms under his head. “I’m not really sure why I’m awake.”

“Maybe I can help you with that,” Marco said, shifting on the bed to sit on the mattress facing him.

Ace grinned, looking her up and down again.

“Well, if you insist.”

Marco scoffed.

“Not like that, brat. Let’s say I have a theory.”

“A theory?” Ace asked, tilting his head to the side. What the hell Marco could have a theory about in this situation, he had no idea.

“I didn’t fall asleep immediately,” she replied with a shrug. “Just promise me you’ll listen until I’m done and won’t try to fight me.”

Ace frowned, not liking at all that Marco felt the need to request _that_. He had behaved himself admirably in the past few hours.

“What’s that theory about?” he asked suspiciously.

“Why you’ve been having trouble sleeping lately. Amongst other things.”

Ace’s frown deepened. He was almost certain he didn’t want to hear it, but he was out of ideas to try to sleep better, so he sat up and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’ll listen.”

Marco lit her hands on fire (they were crossed on her lap) and nodded. She looked completely serious, and the blue light gave her expression an extra solemn air.

“First of all, I have no idea where this fixation with killing Pops comes from, and I won’t presume to ask: it’s your story, and it’s up to you whether you want to share it with anyone or not. But the fact remains that lately you have been making less and less attempts, and those attempts have been half-assed at best. You haven’t come up with a new method in almost two weeks.” Ace bristled, but held back a reply because, as much as it bothered him to admit it, he knew she was right: he hadn’t spent much time planning his attacks lately. “And then there was last week. No matter how upset you were, can you honestly tell me you would have opened up to me a month ago in the same circumstances?”

Ace looked to the side and didn’t say a word. He still wasn’t sure _why_ , exactly, he had told Marco about Sabo last week, but both of them knew what his answer to her question would be.

“I’m not doubting,” he said instead. “I’m pretty sure I would know if I was.”

“Really? Then you haven’t been thinking how weird we are for wanting you around after all the crap you’ve pulled, mmh? Or why Thatch insists on feeding you despite the fact you’re sure we all know you still steal from the pantry every night?” Ace blushed, and felt very glad that it didn’t show with Marco’s blue light. “And right now, weren’t you trying to find an explanation of how we ended up here?”

She wasn’t far off. She was missing a few questions, of course, things that fortunately no one here could even _imagine_ , but she hadn’t gotten any question wrong either. Ace didn’t nod.

“I can answer those,” Marco said anyway. “We want you because we like you. Yes, you’ve been a violent little shit and some people won’t feel entirely comfortable around you for a while unless there’s someone who can fight you —that’s what you get for crawling around the ship with axes— but all of your shit has been against Pops and, occasionally, a commander who tried to stop you: many people would have attacked a weaker person they knew they could beat to at least get revenge on Pops for all the humiliations, but you haven’t. That says a lot more about your character than the attacks do. And you haven’t tried any underhanded methods like poisoning Pops, either.”

“Of course not! I want to _really_ kill him,” Ace snapped, “in a way that nobody will doubt me.”

Marco just smiled —she really needed to reconsider her responses to that kind of statement— and continued, acknowledging his words with a nod instead of simply ignoring them.

“Thatch feeds you because he pretty much adopted you the first day and he can’t stand the idea of anyone being hungry: he noticed you were losing weight and set out to fix it. If you barged into his room right now and said you were hungry, he would jump out of bed and cook you everything you wanted.”

Ace’s stomach growled right then. He had eaten the food Marco had brought before the shower, but well, it had been hours ago and they had done a lot of exercise. Marco shook her head, her smile one of amusement now.

“Maybe you should take one of those trips to the pantry… but later. The third question: me. Well, let’s say you’re not the only one who’s been sneaking glances, I’m just subtler than you.” Because, of course, Marco had known he liked her. Probably long before he had realized she knew, too. “If you had asked me a month ago, I would have invited you into my cabin. Of course, a month ago you would’ve told me to fuck off, no matter how much you stared at my ass.”

A month. She had known for _a month_. That hurt Ace’s pride. The rest of him wasn’t surprised: he was about as subtle as Luffy, after all. And he _wasn’t_ thinking about Luffy now, thank you brain.

“So what you’re saying is I’m in denial or something?” he asked, trying and failing to sound completely sceptical and disbelieving. If he really wasn’t willing to at least _think_ about it, he would have interrupted a few more times, he knew himself well enough to admit as much (despite the last few months, Ace made a point of being as truthful to himself as he could; he could hardly be free if he lived lying to himself).

“Or something,” Marco agreed. “I think you’ve started to accept the fact that you can’t kill Pops, and you’re at a loss now. Your Spade Pirates are here, and while I’m sure they would go with you if you asked, I don’t think you want to pull them away from a place they’re comfortable in.”

Ace shook his head. He had stopped thinking about getting his crew off this ship weeks ago, around the time they had started hinting that maybe he should reconsider his stance. Truth be told, he hadn’t thought of the future in a while, but even before he knew for certain that he couldn’t kill Whitebeard, he had known he wouldn’t survive the experience: if he somehow succeeded, someone —probably Marco— would kill him in retaliation before anyone could drag his exhausted ass off to safety.

Ace exhaled deeply, bent his head forward, and pulled on his hair. He really didn’t know what to think right now.

“What will you do, Ace?” Marco asked softly. “You could always leave and start anew, or you can accept Pops’ offer and wear his mark on your back.”

“On my back? Like you do?” Ace asked weakly, not moving from his position. Earlier, he had made sure they were facing each other at all times, because he hadn’t been sure he could fuck Marco while staring at the large tattoo on her back, the one of the second symbol of the Whitebeard Pirates that so many people carried somewhere on their bodies or clothes.

Marco chuckled.

“If you want to take my words literally, then yes, of course.”

“I don’t know what I want to do,” Ace said to his lap.

“You don’t have to decide now. What about raiding the pantry?”

Ace grinned. It felt a bit forced.

“Would you believe me if I said I’m not hungry anymore? I… I just want to stop thinking for a while.”

The light disappeared and Marco’s hand snuck between Ace’s arms to take hold of his chin. He raised his head as prompted and met her halfway for a kiss. When Marco crawled on his lap he slid his hands down her back to grab her buttocks.

Yes, this was a good way to stop thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, I find it hilarious to think about how the Whitebeard Pirates must handle daily things like laundry. I imagine they’ve tagged all their clothes, probably including the room the owner sleeps in, because it makes sense (it’s also very summer camp-like, and that’s the hilarious part).
> 
> Remember to comment before you go, please :D


	3. Chapter 3

Marco walked into the mess hall for lunch the next day, her hair still damp from her shower. She had woken up to an empty but still warm mattress, and Ace’s presence nowhere in the vicinity of the room. Even if she didn’t know where Ace’s conflict came from (and she had tried to figure out why Ace had been so determined to kill Pops: Marco had even read through their old travel logs to see if the name Portgas appeared anywhere, but it wasn’t there), she knew that Ace needed to think. Marco had already said everything she had to say on the matter, and now it was up to Ace to decide what path he wanted to take.

“Look who’s finally showing up,” Thatch said when Marco slid on the bench next to him. He raised an eyebrow at her tray. “Hungry?”

“I missed breakfast,” she said before she started to eat. While missing a meal (or two, because she had skipped dinner last night as well) didn’t make her feel any more hungry than usual, she liked to make up for it anyway. In this case by adding a small pile of sweets to her meal.

“Where were you?” Thatch asked, leaning closer as if he could learn anything new that way.

“Asleep.”

Marco continued eating, ignoring Thatch’s unimpressed stare.

“We were going to go look for you,” Jozu said from across the table, and Marco sent him an inquisitive look asking for clarification. “Ace hasn’t tried to kill Pops yet and some guys are worried. He looked bad yesterday.”

Marco swallowed before speaking.

“He’s fine. I talked to him yesterday. I wouldn’t worry if he doesn’t try anything; he has… a lot to think about.”

“You got through to him?!” Haruta asked, understandably surprised.

“Maybe. I’m not sure, but he at least looked like he was willing to think about it.”

Thatch whistled.

“That’s progress. Should I leave him alone for a few days?”

Marco shook her head.

“Just don’t pressure him. Be your usual idiotic self, that might even help.”

“I resent that,” Thatch complained good-naturedly. Marco could see the grin he was trying to suppress.

“Wait, does that mean it’s true?” Haruta asked, leaning across the table.

“What’s true?”

“I’ve heard you took Ace’s clothes to clean yesterday.”

Marco rolled her eyes. _Of course_ they were gossiping about that.

“You would have, too, if you had seen that mess.”

She returned to her food and let the others to their speculations. Marco estimated that by dinner the entire crew would know that Ace might be reconsidering his stance on joining the crew.

 

* * *

 

 

Despite the initial enthusiasm, the crew’s certainty that Ace would finally join them started to dwindle as the days passed without him showing up on deck for anything. The only reason they hadn’t stormed down to Ace’s temporary room was because Thatch confirmed every day that Ace was still alive and eating, he still stole from the pantry, and it didn’t look like there was anything wrong with him whenever Thatch saw him.

“What if he leaves?” Thatch asked on the tenth day, once he sat down after his daily assurances that Ace was okay.

“Then he leaves. We can’t do anything.”

Thatch turned so quickly on the bench that he almost fell off it.

“You’re _not serious_ ,” he said, something between a hiss and a snap.

Marco sighed.

“I’m not saying I don’t want him to stay. Of course I want him to join us. It’s just… Thatch, can you honestly tell me, if Ace walks in here and tells Pops that he wants to leave the ship, you’d hold him back? We both know the only reason he is still here is that, despite all his murder attempts and refusals, he has never said he wants to leave the ship.”

Thatch crossed his arms on the table and dropped his chin on them. It was his equivalent of burying his head in his arms, because he didn’t want to ruin his hair.

“I know, but he’s family.”

Marco placed a hand on Thatch’s shoulder. She had no words to cheer him up because, for all that she had tried to guess it, she didn’t know what Ace would decide.

 

* * *

 

 

Ace raised his fist and knocked on the door before he could talk himself out of it. It was late enough that most people would kill him just for waking them up, but he had been talking himself out of doing this for days, and his sleep pattern was so screwed up that he hadn’t realized the time until he reached this hallway.

He refused to back down now.

The door opened and Ace blinked, taken aback, when he saw in the dim light from inside that all Marco was wearing were knickers.

“You always open the door like that?” he asked before he could filter his thoughts.

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” she replied, and Ace belatedly realized that she must have recognized his presence. Marco yawned and stepped back. “You coming in?”

“Oh, yeah,” Ace said, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. “Sorry I woke you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, closing the door. She turned to look at him. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to ask you something.” Marco gestured with her hand for him to go ahead, and Ace reminded himself that he was no coward. “Why do you guys call Whitebeard ‘Pops’?”

Marco pursed her lips thoughtfully.

“The easiest reply would be that he calls us his children, but I think you want something more specific.”

Ace nodded. The Whitebeard Pirates’ dynamic had puzzled him since he had learned about it. At first, he had thought the people he had asked, who in many cases disliked or outright hated the crew, had exaggerated it to have more things to mock about them. But, while many of the rumors he had heard had proven to be bullshit, the ones about the crew’s dynamic were the truth: they saw each other as family (forget that they were over a thousand people and there was no way in hell everybody was close to everybody), and they were completely at ease on the ship. Ace had observed a good amount of interactions and, while they were often rude and there was plenty of teasing and ribbing, he hadn’t seen anything that could be called cruel.

The Whitebeard Pirates didn’t fit what one would expect of the strongest crew in the world, and they certainly didn’t match Ace’s own expectations of them.

“You should sit,” Marco said, gesturing vaguely around the room.

Ace did, pulling the desk’s chair out and turning it around, because sitting on the bed seemed wrong somehow. Marco settled on the bed, her legs crossed.

“We… this crew started because Pops’ dream was to have a family. I’m guessing you’ve heard a fair share of rumors about us, haven’t you?”

“Some,” Ace confirmed, looking down at his lap. He had just realized that many of those rumors included Marco; he had laughed along when he heard some supposedly true stories, and he now felt ashamed of it.

Marco scoffed and Ace looked up at her. Her expression was a mix of amusement and annoyance.

“Don’t worry, I know what people say about me. I assure you I _do_ have criteria choosing who I sleep with, and I’ve _never_ slept with Pops.” Before Ace could do more than splutter (he had never believed that second rumor, if only because it seemed physically impossible, and he had never understood the issue with the first one, though he had learned that women’s sexuality was a complicated thing in many places), she continued. “Anyway, I’m asking because it was worse in the beginning. If people laugh about it now, can you imagine how they reacted to a rookie crew acting as a family?”

“I’m not sure I want to,” Ace said honestly. He could just imagine the amount of fights the Whitebeard Pirates must have gotten into because some bastard laughed at them.

Marco chuckled.

“Exactly. We were a small crew for a long time, until people saw that we really were strong enough to pull this off. I was asked more than once why I followed a crazy idiot like Pops, usually before being offered to join another crew. I think I’m the one who started the most fights, really.”

Now, that was harder to imagine. Ace had heard some jokes amongst the crew about Marco’s kicks, but he had assumed they were due to her strength; he hadn’t thought that Marco had a quick temper. It was an odd concept, given how calm she appeared.

“And why did you? Follow him, I mean.”

Marco hummed.

“At first? I wanted out. I was tired of being the street kid who had to lie about her age just to be able to get a shitty job and a roof over her head. I wanted to travel, and he offered me to join his crew; he seemed decent enough for a pirate, so I accepted.” Marco shrugged. “It wasn’t all easy or immediate. It took me months to start calling him Pops, and we had our issues.”

“That’s… odd.” And another thing hard to picture. The Whitebeard Pirates had been a legend for longer than Ace had been alive: imagining them as rookies struggling for a place in the world and with problems amongst themselves was almost impossible.

Marco grinned.

“You should ask Pops about how we met: he likes to tell that story.” She sobered up. “Anyway, once we got past the initial bumps, it was about acceptance, and about having a place to belong. To me and to most of the crew.”

“Everybody?”

Marco shrugged.

“Perhaps. I don’t know everyone’s reasons to join, but I know many. Who wasn’t a street punk with nowhere to go and no one to care about them was a misfit who didn’t conform to the rules of the society they were born to. Some people are here because they lost everything, others because they never had anything to begin with. So, that’s my answer: we call him Pops because we’re a bunch of outcasts, and he’s the one who saw worth in us and accepted us.”

At some point during Marco’s last few words, Ace had looked down again at his hands. He had clenched them, he wasn’t sure when, and even in the dim light he could tell his knuckles looked white.

“Worth, huh?” he mumbled. “Is that what he sees in me?”

“Of course he does.”

_Maybe he should have his sight checked, then._ Ace almost said it out loud, but he realized that Marco wouldn’t take such a comment well. Why, exactly, was something he didn’t think about.

“What if… what if I have changed my mind?” he asked instead.

“Oh? About what?” Marco asked, as if she didn’t already know.

“About joining the crew. You guys aren’t half bad, after all.” And maybe Ace wanted a place to belong, too, other than a lonely mountain and a pile of garbage on the kingdom that had driven Sabo to his death.

“There’s a bunch of idiots that’ll be very happy if you have,” replied Marco, and Ace could hear the smile in her voice.

He looked up again.

“Not you?”

“I never said I wasn’t an idiot.”

Ace grinned. He doubted that, but he took the words for what they really meant.

“That’s all the welcome I get to the crew?” he asked, for the first time since he had walked in drawing attention to Marco’s nakedness by looking down at her breasts. He didn’t think he could take any more serious and heartfelt conversation tonight, and other than Thatch dropping by to bring him food and make a few lighthearted comments he hadn’t interacted with anyone in the last twelve days.

Marco rolled her eyes, a little too theatrically in Ace’s opinion, but she leaned back on an arm and extended the other one to him.

“Get over here.”

Ace obeyed, kicking his boots off as he walked. Marco didn’t leave him any time to bend over her; she held onto his hips as soon as he was close enough and leaned up to wrap her lips around one his nipples. Ace was surprised, for about as long as it took Marco to trace his nipple with her tongue the first time, then he decided he was down for it.

Marco slid her hands up to his shoulders and pushed his shirt off, her hands barely brushing his skin as they went down his arms. It sent shivers down Ace’s whole body. Marco started to kiss down his stomach until she had to slide off the bed to continue and was on her knees before him.

She looked up at him, a smile playing on her face.

“Has anyone ever sucked you off?” she asked teasingly, and Ace was pretty sure it was a jab at his not-so-long sexual history.

He was too busy being excited to be offended.

“A couple times.”

“Mmm-hm,” she hummed, unbuckling his belt and making quick work of his fly. Ace helped her to get rid of his pants by kicking them off as soon as they were down.

“You sure about this?” he asked, because he had met a few women who didn’t like to suck a guy off (one had tried, anyway, under the impression that she had to do it because Ace had asked, and they had ended up talking the whole night; a pretty awkward conversation at that, because Ace wasn’t used to talking about things like personal boundaries, but he had felt like shit when he had realized why she had agreed).

Marco somehow managed to give him a supremely unimpressed look from her position.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” She wrapped a hand around his cock, brushing her fingers over the tip and smearing the precum there over him as she did. Ace groaned.

“Okay, you’re the—“ he clamped down right before the words left his mouth, and froze when he realized what he had almost said.

Marco scoffed and stopped what she was doing.

“Just say it: I’m the expert. Yeah, I know about that, too.” She leaned back to took up at him better, completely serious. “I’m not ashamed of my sex life, Ace. Just because some assholes like to make fun of it and others think I should be a prude it doesn’t mean you have to censor yourself around me.”

“…Oh,” Ace breathed, at a loss for words. For a moment there he had been sure that he must have offended Marco.

Marco sighed.

“I‘ll tell you if you do something I don’t like, and you do the same, alright? Forget what you’ve heard others say.”

Ace nodded, still feeling like a jerk anyway for how he _had_ believed to an extent some of the things he had heard about Marco (things people used to laugh at her), but he forgot about it pretty quickly when Marco leaned forward again and wrapped her lips around his cock.

 

* * *

 

 

Marco woke up wrapped in Ace’s arms the next day, her back pressed to his chest and his morning erection pretty much stabbing her ass.

Ace was still asleep, snoring softly into the back of her neck, and Marco considered the possibility of waiting until he woke up on his own.

She reached down to rub her clit (she couldn’t just go in dry, healing or no healing) and turned around to kiss a path down Ace’s neck. She was sucking on his shoulder, where his shirt would cover it (she didn’t know if Ace wanted anyone to know about this, and she didn’t like to force people into unnecessary uncomfortable situations) when Ace finally stirred.

“’M not complaining, but what…?” he started, his eyes still closed. Marco pushed two fingers into herself and gasped. Ace opened his eyes, wider than usual, and looked down at her. “You’re… _fuck_.”

“Please,” Marco replied, and let him push her on her back.

It was quick and messy, but by the time they were done, they were both grinning and pretty much awake.

“It’s almost lunch. Again,” Marco said, glancing at the clock on her nightstand.

“A good time to talk to the old man,” Ace said, grinning cockily. It seemed he had pushed back whatever insecurities he had been feeling last night.

“Shower first,” Marco said, sitting up.

She looked down at Ace’s clothes from yesterday and bent down to pick the shirt up.

They were in a passable enough state to do for today.

 

* * *

 

 

Marco remained by the door when Ace entered the mess hall, watching how people fell silent as they noticed his presence. By the time Ace stopped five feet from Pops’ seat the room was deathly silent, and everybody’s eyes were focused on Ace. Marco thought she saw more than one person hold their breath.

As for Ace himself, he was doing a pretty good job of appearing confident. The only tell that belied that confidence was his slightly too tense back, though Marco doubted anybody else would notice it.

“I’m not sure this is the best way to start a murder attempt,” Pops commented in amusement when Ace took a little too long to speak.

Ace crossed his arms, and Marco imagined his face was a mask of annoyance.

“This isn’t a murder attempt,” Ace said, his voice pretty much confirming Marco’s guess. “I’ve changed my mind: I want to join the crew.”

There was a stretch of silence in which Marco felt as if the room had somehow managed to grow even more silent.

Then Pops laughed.

“About time you did, brat,” he said with a wide grin.

Ace scoffed.

“Whatever. I’m hungry.” He turned around and headed for the food. Marco caught a glimpse of relief in his eyes.

Murmurs started to rise in the mess hall, and by the time Ace grabbed a tray and a handful of plates people practically needed to yell to be heard over the din.

Shaking her head, Marco finally entered the mess hall and walked up to Thatch, who looked stupidly happy as he watched Ace pile plate after plate of food on his now second tray.

“Shouldn’t you be preparing a party?” Marco asked.

“Right.” Thatch nodded and jumped from the bench to start collecting cooks and a few other people.

Marco smiled and headed for the food herself, wondering if she would have to fight Ace over it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so a very important note. This is actually something I’ve wanted to address for a long time: Ace and sexism.  
> Most of us have grown up surrounded by sexism, to a larger or lesser degree depending on the circumstances. It’s everywhere, from media to thoughtless comments a relative makes at the most unexpected (or expected) moments. Well, Ace and Luffy are a bit of an exception to this rule. While they no doubt were exposed to the occasional sexist comment or event during their incursions into Gray Terminal and Goa Kingdom, they grew up with a group of bandits led by a woman (and we know Dadan wouldn’t take any sexist shit) and living mostly isolated from the world, so their exposure to many aspects of society, including sexism, was minimal enough that these things didn’t play a factor in the forming of their personality (we’ve seen this with many things on Luffy).
> 
> Once Ace left for his pirate adventure he was exposed to all these things and, while he did his best to figure them out, some puzzled him more than others. Sexist situations were amongst them. Sexist comments? Yeah, Ace didn’t get what being a woman had to do with any bad situation, he quite liked the few women he’d had in his life until that point (even Dadan, though they never acknowledge it).
> 
> -For example, it took Ace MONTHS to understand why his approach to women (once he decided he wanted to try the fabled sex thing) puzzled so many of them: he didn’t use any of the “methods” many men unfortunately use, he didn’t do the “I compliment you, then I insult you if you reject me”, nor did he pressure anyone or kept pestering them if he’d been rejected. And he didn’t take the “advice” to do that sort of thing when some random guy “took pity on him” and decided to “explain” how to get a girl.
> 
> -When he thought he laughed about some of the stories he was told about Marco, he did so because they were about someone he saw as “the enemy”; stories that, if they were true, meant he actually might have a chance of success with his crazy-ass mission, that the Whitebeard Pirates weren’t untouchable or as all powerful as he’d been told. He never actually got that many of those stories were BECAUSE Marco is a woman, not until later, and then didn’t understand what Marco being a woman had to do with anything.
> 
> -I made a mention of a woman Ace was with who tried to give him a blowjob when Ace asked even though she didn’t want to. Unfortunately, women agreeing to do things they don’t want to do is a common occurrence (I know some who have, and oral sex seems to be the most common thing they didn’t want to do but did anyway). In this case, this woman did want to have sex with Ace, but when he asked for the blowjob she thought it wouldn’t be safe to refuse (Ace was already a notorious rookie by then). Ace, who’s grown up surrounded by very straightforward people who refuse to do things they don’t want to, didn’t realize she might feel pressured to do it, and it took him a little to notice. The awkward conversation he mentioned later was basically Ace asking why she’d done it if she didn’t want to, her being puzzled by Ace’s reaction but explaining her reasoning (adding some examples of her own experiences or those of people she knew), which then resulted in this woman explaining a lot of things of how sex “works” to Ace, mainly the more unsavory side of meeting someone and sleeping with them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe I’m posting chapter 4 already, I swear I didn’t have it written when I started posting this (and anyone who follows my other stories knows how much I suck when it comes to updates).
> 
> I’m sorry about the multiple postings of this chapter, I was fighting with the HTML. HTML won, so here goes the url the lame way (if some charitable soul could explain to me how to put an url in an AN I’d love them forever. Internet failed me). Because, the things is WE HAVE ART!!!!!  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/8020981/chapters/18363505  
> Yes, you read that right, the awesome zelga04 actually drew fem!Marco :D (btw, the shirt on the second pic? Totally the one Marco had on at the start of the shower scene on chapter 2).
> 
> Now, there’s something else I wanted to say: originally, this story was a monster of a long fic, but I’ve decided to cut it in two stories because I realized it fits better. You’ll figure out why when I start posting the next one (though you’re welcome to guess). As such, this story has 2-3 chapters left, and I plan on posting the first chapter of the next story alongside the last chapter of this one (technically that’ll be a double update). There, all said.
> 
> Once more, I’m thanking KohanaTrustMe for helping check this over ^^

Ace’s life took a turn for the (even more) surreal once he joined the Whitebeard Pirates.

Settling into a room felt good. He didn’t mind sharing it with other seven guys, given that privacy had never been part of his life: first it had been at Dadan’s, where there had never been enough space for individual bedrooms; during the tree house days he, Sabo, and Luffy had basically used each other as pillows; and the Spade Pirates had shared a giant room full of strewn mattresses and bunk beds. This was actually the most organized room Ace had ever lived in.

Then his new roommates had caught sight of the contents of his bag, and had announced it was unacceptable for one of their “brothers” to own so few things. Ace had given in and agreed to buy more clothes at the next island when he was threatened with being left to Izo’s tender care if he didn’t. Ace had seen the amount of effort Izo put into his appearance, and it wasn’t something he wanted to have to go through.

As for the rest of his life… he was reconnecting with his former crew, because he had made a point of distancing himself from them once they had started to give in about becoming part of the Whitebeard Pirates (yes, Ace had been a prideful piece of shit, he could admit it now), and he was also making new friends. As he had heard more than once, now that he had put the axe down people wanted to really get to know him, and as such there was always a group dragging him off to hang out with them.

Also, Thatch had made it his goal to see if he could feed Ace until he felt full, and Ace was more than willing to assist him with it. So far, Thatch hadn’t succeeded.

And he had taken up training again. Mostly with some of the commanders, because he was done with being punched off the ship by Whitebeard (Ace still found it hard to call him Pops). Jozu and Marco were his favorite opponents, because they had it easiest to avoid being burned by his flames. Ace preferred fighting Jozu, though, because Marco was too fucking _fast_. It didn’t change the fact that both of them handed his ass over to him every single time. Other than when Gramps visited, it had been years since he had trained with someone who could beat him. It was refreshing.

 

* * *

 

 

“How are you adapting?” Marco asked him the second week after he joined the crew.

Ace blinked up at the sky, trying to shake the sleepiness off. He had fallen asleep on deck, and now the sun was already setting.

“Fine.”

“Just fine?” she asked, turning around so she was facing him. Or looming over him, because she was sitting and he was still sprawled on the floor.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s kinda overwhelming; I don’t think I remember half the faces of the people I’ve met, and don’t get me started on the names, but… it’s okay. Nice.”

“I’m glad.”

“Oh, and I’m getting a tattoo. On my back,” Ace said. Marco was the first person he told this, but she had also been the one to give him the idea in the first place.

“Really? The flag?”

Ace nodded. Then he grinned. He didn’t aim for seductive, because he had never managed to pull that look off, so instead he settled for his cheekiest grin.

“Will you help me take care of it? I’ll make it worth the effort.”

Marco raised her eyebrows.

“Are you sure you can?”

“Of course,” said Ace, putting on his most self-assured expression as he sat up.

Marco hummed.

“Drop by my cabin tonight and convince me, then.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I didn’t agree to this,” Ace said, fully aware that any complaints would be useless. He could still try.

Thatch wrapped an arm around his shoulders and grinned infuriatingly down at him.

“It’s your own fault for letting me overhear that conversation.”

“ _Letting you_? You’re the creep who listens from around corners!”

Thatch somehow managed to shrug without letting go of him.

“Semantics. Anyway, I don’t trust you with this, so you can either just accept my help or I call in reinforcements.”

Ace sighed, but he let Thatch drag him into the store. There went his plan of buying only a couple pairs of pants. Apparently, he had to avoid a certain level of “standing out”, which meant he had to buy useless things like winter clothes for appearances’ sake. There had also been some nonsense about people feeling cold simply by seeing him in shorts when it was snowing.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, has Ace returned that mattress Jozu got him?” Haruta barely whispered, eyes darting quickly to the table where Ace was wolfing food down today as if to make sure he couldn’t hear the conversation.

“No idea. Why?” Izo asked, looking in Ace’s direction as well. While Ace had been in a very good mood since he had given in about joining the crew (he even had _manners_ ; Izo hadn’t expected that one), they were still leery of how Ace would react to relatively new situations. As far as the crew was aware, Ace had never overheard them gossiping about him, and nobody wanted to be the first one caught doing it, just in case it pushed one of Ace’s buttons.

“It’s just I’ve heard he hasn’t slept in his room for a couple days. Since he got that tattoo. And he hasn’t dropped by the infirmary at all either.”

“You mean he’s not getting it treated?!” Izo asked sharply. There was no way Ace could take care of the new tattoo on his back on his own, and Izo didn’t think Ace was _that much_ of an idiot: he was a logia, but not invulnerable to already existing wounds.

Haruta shrugged.

“No? I mean, he looks okay. I’ve checked, and I _think_ he’s had it looked after.”

Izo narrowed his eyes. He thought he knew what Haruta was getting at —he _knew_ a lot of his brothers would jump on that theory— but this had all the makings of something that might actually piss Ace off. If nothing else, Ace had struck Izo as very private about at least certain things, like his reasoning to want Pops’ dead, from day one.

“You asked about the mattress.” Haruta nodded, grinning widely. Izo sighed. “It hasn’t been even _two weeks_ since he started being civil; you can’t be serious.”

“Why not? He’s got the looks, and once he stops snarling he can actually be charming.”

“Why don’t you just ask him?” Vista suggested, the voice of reason. There was something in his expression, his smile mostly, that had Izo redirect his narrowed eyes at him.

“I’m not sure I could dodge the fire,” Haruta replied happily.

 

* * *

 

 

“People have started to gossip,” Vista said as soon as he was up on the crow’s nest. It was late at night and Marco was on watch duty today.

“I wasn’t expecting you of all people to bring this up,” she said, turning to look at him. She hadn’t missed the looks that Pops, Jozu, and a few others had given her the day Ace had joined the crew, or a few times ever since. Her money had actually been on Pops asking her about it.

“I may not like gossip, and I don’t know why you haven’t told the crew, but I thought you should know.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Why haven’t you told them, anyway?” Marco raised her eyebrows, trying to send the message that she knew Vista wasn’t as uninterested in gossip as he liked to make the crew believe.

“I don’t know if Ace wants to; it hasn’t come up.”

“You think he won’t?”

Marco shrugged.

“Honestly, I have no idea.” If Ace had proven something to her so far, it was that he could be completely unpredictable about the oddest things.

 

* * *

 

 

Ace was sprawled face down on her bed when Marco returned to her room shortly before dawn, and he didn’t even stir when she manhandled him to make some space for herself (Ace liked to hog the whole bed, which wasn’t a problem when Marco wrapped herself around him, but it was best if he avoided sleeping on his back until the tattoo was healed, so for now things required some maneuvering).

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, Ace,” Marco called from the bed.

Ace looked up, but stayed crouched on the floor and groping under said bed trying to find an elusive boot.

“Yeah?”

She rolled over on the bed so she was looking down at him, arms crossed under her chin.

“What do you think about the crew knowing about this?” she gestured from herself to Ace and back.

Ace blinked, caught so by surprise that he stopped searching.

“Huh?”

Marco scoffed.

“I’m not sure of the details, but I think it’s probably your absence from your dorm or something. Whatever the reason, there’s gossip that you’ve hooked up with someone.”

“Oh.” Ace searched for a better reaction than another blink. The thought of others knowing about him and Marco hadn’t even crossed his mind: he was the wannabe-killer idiot and Marco was… well, _Marco_. He wouldn’t have expected her to want others to know about this. Ace shrugged. “I don’t mind. If you’re okay with it.”

Marco smirked.

“I actually have an idea.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh my _god_ , I was right!” Haruta whisper-exclaimed late that day at breakfast when Ace finally showed up, his hair still noticeably damp from the shower he had said he would take.

Izo sighed and handed over a handful of rolled-up bills.

“I can’t believe that brat. He didn’t want anything to do with us two weeks ago,” Izo muttered, ignoring how Haruta counted the money with exaggerated glee. That had been a hefty bet.

“What can’t you believe?” Marco asked, easily feigning ignorance.

“ _That_ ,” Izo replied, gesturing with his head in Ace’s direction. Ace had decided that the best way to avoid having his clothes mess with his healing tattoo was to not wear any kind of top, and he now walked around shirtless. As such, the marks spread over his neck and shoulders were hard to miss.

“Looks like someone had fun,” Marco commented. And yes, it had been pretty fun putting those marks there, and it had delayed them too. Ace taking his time showering had allowed Marco to show up twenty minutes ago in the mess hall. She hadn’t wanted to miss this.

“That’s not the point,” Izo insisted. “Besides, you said it yourself: Ace isn’t subtle, we would’ve noticed if he was with someone.”

“And you haven’t?” Marco took a sip from her orange juice. Oranges from winter season on spring islands were _the best_.

“I haven’t been looking,” admitted Izo, “but as far as I know, yours is the only ass he’s been staring at.”

“I have a nice ass.”

Next to her, Thatch (who had been eating his own breakfast and listening to the conversation) choked and started to cough. Jozu patted him on the back in one of his gentlest ways.

Izo scoffed and gave her an unimpressed look that Marco returned with a calm smile.

“Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that the idiot who couldn’t keep secret where he was hiding while he saw us as his enemies has managed to hide something like this for days.”

_Weeks_ , Marco corrected in her mind.

“You could always ask him,” Marco suggested, gesturing with her head to Ace, who was done loading as many trays as he could manage to carry and, following the plan, had started to slowly approach their table, trying not to drop anything.

Predictably, Haruta chimed in.

“Where’d be the fun in that? No, we’re figuring this one out ourselves.”

As everybody hurried to start unrelated conversations before Ace came in hearing range, Marco made a point of meeting the eyes of every single haki user at the table and send a clear message: _not a fucking word_. They all nodded. Pops hid a grin behind his mug.

 

* * *

 

 

“I can’t believe you hid this from me,” Pops complained good-naturedly later that morning.

“I didn’t _hide_ anything. You’ve known since Ace joined the crew,” Marco replied from her place on one of the armrests of Pops’ chair.

“And I’m supposed to believe it started then?” Pops grinned widely, the grin that said he knew Marco wouldn’t appreciate his next comment. “You’ve got to tell me these things, Marco: a father is supposed to scare the crap out of anyone who’s interested in his daughter.”

Pops blocked Marco’s kick, but she had put enough power behind the blow to shatter the haki-reinforced tankard Pops had used as a shield. They were both sprayed with sake.

“Ace is your kid, too, in case you’ve forgotten,” Marco said calmly.

“It’d be just some healthy fun.”

“Keep your healthy fun to yourself.”

Pops laughed.

“Nah, I’m getting too excited now.”

Marco jumped out of the chair and somersaulted in the air to avoid Pops’ swiping fist. She landed on her feet in the middle of the now hurriedly cleared off deck and grinned viciously.

“You want me to show the kids how to kick your ass?”

Pops laughed, ripped off all the medical sensors stuck to his body, and stood up. Marco was going to be yelled at by the nurses for this, but it was just a bit of training, they weren’t even going to damage the ship. Much. And if Pops so much as showed any signs of trouble she would stop and strap him to a bed herself if necessary.

“Bring it on, brat.”

 

* * *

 

 

Ace had been so shocked when Marco had attacked Whitebeard out of the blue that he hadn’t put up any resistance when Vista dragged him off to an upper deck.

“What the hell?” Ace finally managed to ask when it was obvious that Marco and Whitebeard were going to actually _fight_.

Vista patted him on the shoulder.

“Watch and learn, Ace. You’re about to see Pops fight the only person in this crew who’s ever managed to win against him in a one-to-one fight.”

Ace whipped his head around to stare at Vista.

“ _What_?!”

Vista chuckled.

“Not often, mind you. Those are usually the longer fights (Marco can beat anyone on endurance). And they can’t go all out on the ship, but this will be good.”

Just then, Marco jumped in the air, _high_ , and dropped down on Whitebeard. Her leg clashed with his forearm, and the whole ship _shook_.

 

* * *

 

 

“I thought you said this would be short?” Ace asked that night, munching on the remaining chicken leg of the two chickens he had eaten for dinner.

“Looks like they’ve decided to put on a show. They do that sometimes.”

“Any particular reason for it?” Ace asked, not that he minded the show, because _damn_ , he had been even more outclassed than he had thought when he had gone after Whitebeard. This was an _amazing_ display.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Vista started, turning to look at him, “but Marco and Pops usually do this when we’ve had a lot of new members join the crew since the last time they showed off, to nip any ideas in the bud.”

“Ideas about Marco?” Ace asked, and couldn’t find it in himself to be offended just because a good number of those new crewmembers were the Spade Pirates. Amongst the many rumors they had heard about the Whitebeard Pirates on their quest for information, there had been one that had popped up often enough. It said something along these lines: Marco the Phoenix wasn’t really as strong as her bounty suggested, but she had been the first mate before they created the divisions and the marines had to give her a higher bounty, because the first mate always had the second highest bounty in a crew, and they would have had to devalue the strong guys’ bounties if they hadn’t put that price on her head.

There was a bright blue flash and _Whitebeard_ crashed through a wall, proving just what a load of bullshit that rumor was.

 

* * *

 

 

Marco stopped walking and turned around just in time for Ace to practically crash into her and tackle her against the wall as he kissed her hungrily. Marco wrapped her arms around his neck, surprised by his enthusiasm, and returned the gesture. Ace pressed closer and she could feel his erection clearly through his shorts.

Curious, Marco pulled back enough to raise her eyebrows at him.

“And this?”

“That was _hot_ ,” Ace breathed against her lips, somehow managing to sound both aroused and boyishly enthusiastic.

She chuckled and lowered a hand to hold him through the fabric of his pants. He groaned.

“I can tell. But you’ll spoil the fun if you jump me in here, so let’s go somewhere else.”

“Fuck the fun,” Ace muttered, moving in for another kiss.

Marco let the kisses go on for a short time, but the moment Ace tried to open her shorts, she pulled back again.

“Bedroom. We can fuck _and_ still have fun. I think I’ll scratch your shoulders tonight, maybe leave a bite or two.”

Ace groaned again, but this time he let Marco drag him to her cabin —which was only a couple hallways down, really, and nobody was around— before assaulting her mouth again.

In the time it took Ace to get rid of his boots and shorts, Marco had kicked off her own shoes, sash, shorts, and was halfway through the knots on the back of her shirt when Ace’s hands joined hers.

“You wear the weirdest clothes,” Ace said against her lips, pulling at a knot that refused to be undone. Marco swatted his hand away to do it herself (the things sometimes refused to stay the way she had left them in the morning).

“It’s because of the tattoo. Not all of us can walk around shirtless.”

“Why not?” Ace asked with a shit-eating grin.

Marco kicked him lightly on the shin.

“Hey,” Ace said when Marco finally got rid of the shirt. He looked bashful all of a sudden. “Can you lie on your back on the bed? And spread your legs.”

“Yeah, sure,” Marco replied, turning to do just that. She had learned that the best way to deal with Ace’s occasional nervousness was to follow along until she figured out the reason for it, and then try to calm him down without making him feel like he was doing something wrong.

Once she was on the bed, Ace crawled between her legs, but stopped farther back than he usually did, and Marco understood what he wanted to do when he reached for her thighs.

“I’ve never actually done this before,” he said, as if excusing himself for any potential mess.

Marco smiled.

“Don’t worry, you can practice on me as much as you want. I’ll even give you pointers.”

“You mean of what you like, or that you’ve done this before?” Ace asked, relaxed enough to be a little teasing.

Marco felt her smile turn into a smirk, and she licked her lips.

“What if I say both?”

As she expected, Ace blushed, groaned again, and dropped his head on the bed so his hair was brushing her thighs.

“I’m gonna be thinking about that for months,” he said, voice muffled by the mattress.

Marco chuckled.

“Just do it later. You were about to try something, weren’t you?”

Ace nodded, his face still pressed to the mattress.

Chuckling again, Marco let her head fall on the pillow. She felt oddly happy that Ace was comfortable enough with her to be willing to try something new when he wasn’t sure he could pull it off. Marco would ensure he could do it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a bit later than I would have liked, but here I am with chapter 5 :D Originally, I intended to post this last week and today, which just so happens to be Marco’s birthday, I wanted to post the last chapter and the first one of the next story in this universe, but I managed to land myself in bed for nearly a week and it just wasn’t possible :’D
> 
> That said, thanks a lot as always to KohanaTrustMe for helping with this story (and believe me, there were some serious issues to fix this chapter) :D

Marco was going over the list of supplies they had to buy for the New Year’s party. Not because she didn’t trust the crew to have covered everything that was necessary, but because she needed to check they actually had the funds for all of it, given they hadn’t run into many enemies since meeting the Spade Pirates. She may have foisted the supervision job for the usual supply runs on Pops for the time being, but she didn’t want to know what things Pops would okay from this list (most likely without looking closely at the costs, because it was a party). So far, probably because they had thought Pops would be the one to revise it, Marco had scratched off over twenty things. She didn’t know what the hell anyone wanted a _circus elephant_ for, and she would be happy remaining in ignorance.

She had just written down the estimated price of the two thousand paper party hats based on last year’s costs when she realized something. Marco looked up at Ace, who was happily wolfing down his fifth serving of bacon (and yes, she was working during breakfast, but this damn list had reached her with barely any spare time, just like all the previous years. No amount of threats solved that particular issue).

“Hey, Ace.” Ace mumbled something, thankfully with his mouth closed. “When’s your birthday?”

Ace had the forethought of swallowing before he replied.

“January 1st. Why?”

Marco wasn’t sure who in hearing range yelled the loudest, the words mixing to the point where it was impossible to discern them.

“…What?” Ace asked in the silence that followed the outbursts.

“It’s _December 27th_ ,” Izo practically hissed in that way that indicated he was close to being done with someone else.

Before Ace could get himself shot at, another thought crossed Marco’s mind.

“Do you even _celebrate_ your birthday?” Because from everything she knew about Ace’s past she wouldn’t be surprised to learn birthday parties hadn’t been part of Ace’s life.

“Yeah. Luffy and me used to pull a dine’n’dash in town for our birthdays.”

There were a couple very unimpressed looks at Ace’s restaurant etiquette and a few unsurprised comments. Then someone asked who Luffy was. Ace grinned and started talking enthusiastically about him.

Marco met Thatch’s eyes in the crowd. The general rule in the crew was that they only celebrated individually Pops and the commanders’ birthdays, and chose a date each month to throw a massive monthly birthday party (because over a thousand birthday parties just weren’t doable), but there would already be an ongoing party that day.

Thatch nodded at her.

They would fit Ace’s birthday into the celebration.

 

* * *

 

 

“We’re dead,” Ace chuckled against the back of Marco’s neck (earlier he had pulled an ‘I’m going to pretend to go to bed and pretend to sneak out’ trick on his roommates that he would be murdered for once the truth came out).

 “ _You’re_ dead,” Marco panted into the pillow. She reached back with a hand, trying to touch him, but Ace coaxed her hand back to the mattress with one of his own and then ran that hand up her arm, barely brushing her skin (and if it was something he’d learned from her it was okay; it worked). Marco shuddered, and turned her head sideways to smirk cockily up at him. “The only person who can kill me already knows.”

“You’re evil,” Ace said with another chuckle right before pinching one of her nipples. Marco bit on her bottom lip to muffle a sound, and she pressed her back up against his chest. Ace had to bite his own lip when her ass rubbed against his erection. She had done that on purpose, he _knew_.

“I could make it worth it,” Marco suggested, her head still turned, and her eyes glinted in a way Ace had started to associate with her having an idea. A _good_ idea. He liked that look.

“It’d better be good,” Ace managed to say in mock-gravity, rubbing both her nipples between his fingers. He even gave off an air of calm.

Marco chuckled.

“You want my back to your chest, right?”

“Yeah. I want to play with your boobs,” Ace said, kneading them for good measure.

“Can’t blame you,” Marco chuckled again (and there went another thought for Ace’s imagination). “Move up so you’re kneeling, and keep your knees together.”

Ace did, maybe moving away from her a little too fast, already anticipating what Marco intended to do. He watched as she first sat up, then slid backwards on the bed —never turning to look at him— until she had straddled his legs, her back again pressed to his chest.

The door, Ace thought, _really_ needed a mirror.

Ace muffled a groan on her shoulder when Marco came down on him, then slid his arms around her to continue his exploration of her chest. They were both trying to be as silent as possible, lest they give the game away, and so when Marco’s hips stuttered and she immediately turned around to kiss him, Ace kissed her back, trying to swallow whatever noises she was going to make when she came.

The door burst open.

“Oi, Ma—! FUCK!”

Ace froze, his eyes flying open, and he stared past Marco’s head at Thatch, who had just fallen on his ass in a failed attempt to backtrack.

Marco pulled away and turned her head around.

“You really need to learn to knock, Thatch. What if I’d been changing?”

_What?_ Ace thought, completely disconcerted.

Then, as he watched Thatch splutter on the floor, Ace suddenly understood what was going on: Marco hadn’t been about to come, she had sensed Thatch was about to open the door, and had realized they didn’t have time to pull apart and make this look as anything but what it was. So she had… what? Decided to go with it and make the most of the situation?

Ace felt a delayed blush creep up his neck and he bent his head forward to rest his forehead against Marco’s neck. He felt like laughing his ass off, so the blush was probably second-hand embarrassment on behalf of Thatch. Or maybe his face was trying to make up for the whiteness of Thatch’s face.

Thatch continued to splutter for a few long seconds after Marco’s words, shook his head, spluttered some more, finally scrambled to his feet, and dashed off. He at least had the courtesy to slam the door shut on his way out.

Marco sagged in Ace’s arms.

“Sorry about that. I guess that ruined the mood,” Marco said, somewhat dejectedly.

“Why? You embarrassed?” She hadn’t sounded embarrassed to Ace, but then he reminded himself that Marco was extremely good at keeping her composure.

“No, but…” she turned her head around, eyebrows raised. “ _You_ aren’t?”

“Have you met me?” Ace asked, and thrust upwards with his hips to illustrate his point.

Marco laughed.

 

* * *

 

 

Izo put his pen down when Thatch pretty much stormed into the mess hall.

He sighed, not sure he wanted to know what demands in exchange for keeping Ace unaware of their plans Marco had made to put Thatch in such a state (talking her out of having the other commanders take on her watch duty shifts for two months had cost them a fortune —which Izo was pretty sure had been Marco’s aim all along— but Marco was the only one whose sleeping pattern wasn’t affected by watch duty, and as such _all_ of her shifts were the worst ones at night).

Now that Thatch was back, all twenty people tasked with preparing the New Year’s party (plus the addition of Ace’s birthday) were here. Izo, as the one in charge of the whole operation, refused to have more people in the team, or things would be impossible to manage. Buying the supplies was one thing, they had coordinated a team of one hundred people earlier today for that purpose, but a large group never worked well to organize anything. They had learned that one the hard way.

Before Izo could ask how things had gone with Marco, Thatch passed him by and stopped before Pops.

“ _You knew_ ,” Thatch snapped in accusation, pointing a trembling finger at Pops.

Izo looked around, confused. Nobody seemed to know what was going on, except maybe for Vista, who was failing to hide a grin behind his moustache.

“I know many things, son. You’ll have to be more specific,” Pops said, so obviously amused that Izo was sure when Thatch waved his arms around it was in an attempt _not_ to punch him.

“ _Specific_?! I’m never gonna get that out of my mind!”

Pops laughed, and Vista snickered. Izo leaned forward, very curious to know what the hell was going on.

“So it was graphic, then?” Pops asked, still infuriatingly amused, and Thatch _spluttered._

After some more fruitless hand-waving that might have been an attempt at communication, Thatch threw his hands up in the air and spun around.

“I’m going to get drunk. I’m going to get _horribly, dangerously_ drunk, and hopefully I won’t remember shit from tonight tomorrow. If anyone tries to stop me, they’ll be eating crumbs for a month.” That said —and Thatch _never_ used food to threaten anyone— Thatch marched off in the direction of the kitchens.

Everybody turned to stare at Pops.

“Care to explain that?” Izo asked.

Pops grinned.

“I think Thatch just figured out that Marco is Ace’s mystery lover.”

 

* * *

 

 

Ace woke up to a hand running through his hair and massaging his scalp. If he made any embarrassing noises at the sensation, he would deny it for all of eternity.

“Morning,” Marco greeted from somewhere close to his face.

Ace mumbled something with his eyes still closed, but opened them when Marco leaned in to peck him on the lips. He blinked, then rubbed his eyes. Nope, still there.

“Are those _hickeys_?”

“Yup.”

“I thought you healed from them.”

Marco grinned, and there was something a little too sunny to the expression.

“I can control localized healing. Some things would be a pain otherwise.”

“Like what?” Ace asked, and then a thought crossed his mind. He bolted upright and looked down at her. “How old were you when you ate your fruit?”

Marco laughed.

“Straight to the gutter. But that was one of my main reasons: I spent a whole year going back to being a virgin before I figured out how to stop the regeneration. Realizing that my ovules were also regenerating was good extra motivation.”

Ovules…

_Oh, fuck._

Ace felt himself pale, but before he could say anything —because, _what the hell_ , he had used condoms before, but hadn’t even _thought of it_ with Marco— Marco snorted.

“There’s no need to panic, I don’t have my period anymore.”

Ace nodded, and managed to stop himself from putting his foot in his mouth by commenting on how Marco was older than she looked.

“So, the hickeys?”

“I figured, since the cat is out of the bag, I could give the crew a bit of a show. If you’re okay with it, of course.”

Ace looked over her neck and collarbones. There were a few marks, but most of the ones he had made last night were on the back of her neck and shoulders.

He grinned.

“I think that’s not eye-catching enough.”

Marco smiled, spread her arms on the bed, and tilted her head up.

“Fix it?”

 

* * *

 

 

Being the stifling summer day that it was, Marco had decided to go for the revealing combination of a bikini top and shorts, and she held back a chuckle when she walked into the mess hall with Ace and pretty much everyone turned to look at them. Marco took advantage of the short silence to scan the crowd, and was unsurprised to notice Thatch wasn’t present. He was probably hugging a toilet as he nursed a massive hangover.

“You two,” Izo broke the silence, “are _assholes_.”

Marco smirked.

“That’s what you get for betting on people’s sex lives.”

“Did anyone bet on Marco?” Ace asked, amused. He almost didn’t catch the bag of money Haruta threw his way, and he stared down at it in confusion.

“When we bet about someone and nobody wins, the person the bet was about gets the money,” Marco explained.

“Really? Awesome.”

 

* * *

 

 

According to Haruta, the Whitebeard Pirates always stopped at one island or another on New Year’s Eve. Officially, it was so they could buy any last minute supplies they may have forgotten (or destroyed accidentally, and there Haruta had muttered something about fireworks), but in truth it was so Izo could kick the majority of the crew out of the ship and have his team place the decorations in peace.

Marco had said she always stayed in her cabin for that day and, after a look at the extremely packed port town, Ace had decided to do the same.

“Why’s the place so full, anyway?” he asked, paging through one of the many books from Marco’s bookcase (this one was about weird legends from around the world). He would deny it if asked, but he was actually hiding here because he didn’t want to be roped into helping outside if Izo decided he needed extra hands. Ace had watched Izo giving orders after breakfast, and that had been some scary shit.

“Too many people like to leave their shopping for the last minute,” Marco replied. She was working, or so Ace had thought until he had looked over her shoulder and had seen a bunch of pretty hilarious drawings of some marine soldiers running from a winged sea king (he hadn’t asked yet, but he wanted to know what _that_ was about).

“That’s dumb. I wouldn’t get in that crowd if you paid me.” When he had thought about actually going out for a while, he had seen a man literally shove his way through a group of people because there wasn’t an open path to go through.

“You won’t have to. Izo will just call someone already down there if he needs anything.”

Ace hummed. He closed the book.

“So what’s with the flying sea king.”

“It’s not a sea king. Or at least, I don’t mean it to be one.”

“Then?”

“Have you ever heard of dragons?”

 

* * *

 

 

Staying relatively sober for the arrival of the New Year was a bit of an effort for some people, but they always managed to keep the crew in shape, even if it required straight up keeping the booze away from certain people.

For the party, as they usually did, they had anchored their ships near the beach of a tiny, uninhabited island, so the whole crew could party there and they didn’t risk anyone falling overboard trying to jump from one ship to another. Jozu had dragged a giant grandfather clock they kept for this sole time of the year to a visible area of the beach, and now they were all counting down the seconds to midnight.

Nobody noticed when Marco put her mug down on a rock, and the moment the number one was yelled all over the beach she grabbed Ace by the shoulder and kissed him. Their exchange went unnoticed amongst the cheers celebrating the New Year and people gulping down their own drinks, even when Ace dropped his mug in surprise.

“And this?” he asked when Marco pulled away.

“It’s a tradition in some places to kiss the person you’re with as the year changes.”

“…Oh,” Ace said, blinking.

Marco chuckled and kissed him again, this one longer and with a lot more tongue.

“And happy birthday,” she added against his lips, grinning when it took Ace a moment to pull himself together.

“Oh, right. Thanks,” he said, managing to grin back at her even if he still looked a little confused.

Marco shook her head and stepped back.

“How old are you now?” she asked, suddenly realizing that she didn’t really know Ace’s age. There wasn’t much information about Ace around, in truth, which was odd for someone as infamous as he had become. Reporters liked to dig for that sort of information, but the only reason Marco even knew his home island was that Ace himself had told her about it.

“Eighteen,” Ace said, and it was Marco’s turn to blink.

She then started to laugh, and had to use the hand still on Ace’s shoulder to keep herself up.

“Oi! What’s so funny?!” Ace demanded, offended.

Marco forced herself to calm down before Ace’s offended state reached the point of him storming off.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m not laughing at you.”

“Then?” Ace asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’re— _were_ a minor according to most countries’ laws until minutes ago. There are going to be endless comments over it once the crew figures that out.”

“I was _seventeen_ , not a kid,” Ace complained, looking very much like a kid. Marco decided it was very likely Ace would storm off if she ruffled his hair now.

Thatch practically appeared next to Ace and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Okay, birthday boy, you’re coming with me.”

“I thought you weren’t talking to me,” Ace said, looking slightly confused and very much amused. Thatch had been ignoring both Marco and Ace since he had caught them a few days ago.

“That was yesterday, but I’m not giving someone the cold shoulder on his birthday. What sort of monster do you think I am?”

“Oh, okay,” Ace said, still looking at Thatch a little dubiously. “What did you want?”

“Yeah, that…” Thatch started, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was meant to be a surprise, you know, but we’ve just realized that we don’t know how many candles we have to put on your birthday cake, so…”

Ace’s face lit up at the mention of the cake and he grinned widely. Then the grin turned into a smirk when he glanced in Marco’s direction before meeting Thatch’s eyes.

“Eighteen.”

_The little shit_ , Marco thought in amusement. She could already hear the _jokes_ in her mind.

“Oh,” Thatch nodded, and almost turned around before realization dawned on his face. He glanced from Ace to Marco and back again. “ _Oh._ ” And he, too, smirked.

Marco scoffed.

“You’re not talking to me, remember? It’s not _my_ birthday.”

Thatch huffed in amusement, but turned back to Ace, of whom he hadn’t let go yet.

“Okay, birthday boy, you’re with me. Let’s leave the cradle robber to plot her next evil plan.”

 

* * *

 

 

Ace shoved another spoonful of cake into his mouth. His birthday cake had been _enormous,_ large enough for everybody to have some and for Ace to still have like a fourth of it all to himself. He was on the last slice.

“Why do they do that?” he asked Thatch between bites, pointing to where a bunch of guys were failing miserably at getting Marco drunk. (Thatch had forgiven Ace entirely after seeing his enthusiastic appreciation of the cake).

“Crew tradition. We were serious at first, but now it’s mostly for fun. And hope.”

“Hope?” Ace asked, lowering the spoon. He had already licked it clean.

“There’s a pot,” Thatch explained. “We started it when we still thought getting Marco drunk was just about getting her to drink enough. It’s kind of grown over the years: every few weeks someone gets drunk, adds some money, and decides to try.”

Ace raised his eyebrows. Entering a drinking challenge _drunk_ sounded kind of stupid.

“Why don’t you try?” Thatch asked suddenly.

“Me? I’m not used to drinking.”

“Yeah, but you...” Thatch snuck up close to him, and wrapped an arm around Ace’s shoulders, “have an advantage: you’re Marco’s boyfriend. You could convince her not to heal. I wanna see her drunk.”

Ace wasn’t listening, he was too busy staring at Thatch in shock.

“I’m not her boyfriend,” he blurted out.

“Really?” Thatch asked, surprised. “You just fuck, then? Nothing else?” Ace nodded. “So you don’t talk? Cuddle? Be together doing nothing?”

“We’re friends too,” Ace replied with a shrug.

Thatch gave him a dubious look.

“So you’d cuddle with me?”

“ _No._ ”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I’m sorry this update took so long to come. All I can say is that the chapter proved more difficult to write than I expected and my lovely friend depression decided to come by for a visit. But, as I said I would, I have it here and I’ll be posting the first chapter of the next part at once (believe it or not, I wrote that chapter in the time it took me to send this one for revision and get it back). That story is titled A Sibling’s Love, and will be longer than this one and focus on different topics. The relationship is there, of course, but it’s no longer the main theme of the plot.
> 
> As always, thanks a lot to KohanaTrustMe for all the help :D

Marco rolled around in bed and paused when she didn’t find a body to wrap herself around. She blinked, taking in the fact that there was already light filtering through the window and thus it was too late for Ace to have gone out to sneak into the kitchen. It also meant it _wasn’t_ too early to go get breakfast.

Scoffing in amusement, Marco grabbed the pillow and wrapped her arms around it instead before going back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

The first night Ace didn’t drop by Marco’s cabin, she didn’t think much of it. The second night, however, Marco started to grow worried. Ace had spent every night after the second week since he had joined the crew in Marco’s cabin, and yet Marco hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of him in the last two days. Given Ace’s behavior so far, that was _odd_.

Now, Marco could be entirely unreasonable and creepy and track him down, but the reason “I haven’t seen you in two days” sounded ridiculous even in her own head. Marco was no whiny teenager, she had simply realized that something _might_ be wrong and she was accordingly worried. Having into account Ace’s behavior his first few months on board the ship, Marco thought any oddities were worthy of concern.

Irrational option discarded, Marco could only wait for Ace to show up. And she could also ask some questions around, of course.

 

* * *

 

 

“Have you seen Ace?” Marco asked halfway through breakfast the day after the second night, as casual as she could manage without sounding _too_ casual. Her beloved siblings were like hounds with their prey when they believed there might be trouble or a secret to uncover.

“What, you don’t have him chained to your bed?” Izo asked in half-teasing curiosity. Next to him, Thatch let out a pitiful groan and pressed his chin on his forearms.

Marco raised her eyebrows.

“Where did _that_ thought come from?”

Izo shrugged.

“I haven’t seen him in a couple days, but according to the little kid over here,” Izo gestured at Thatch with his head, “plenty of food has gone missing from the kitchen. I figured you two were having some sort of private long birthday celebration.”

“ _Izo_ ,” Thatch whined, but they both ignored him.

“Which you’re obviously not,” Izo finished, his eyes going sharp. “Has something happened?”

“No,” Marco replied, and raised her hands in a defensive gesture when Izo narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m serious, nothing has happened. It’s just… I haven’t seen him in a couple days, either. I can sense him around, and it’s good to know he’s eating, but I don’t know anything else about him.”

Izo hummed in thought.

“And you say nothing happened?” Marco shook her head. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“When I dragged his drunk ass to bed after the party. He was rambling about the cake.”

“Why don’t you just track him down and ask?” Thatch suggested.

“Because that’s creepy. Whatever he wants to do, it’s his choice.”

“Yeah, but you’re his girlfriend. It’s kinda rude to ditch you without a word,” Thatch said.

“I’m not his girlfriend,” Marco pointed out.

“Really?”

“Really. We’re just friends who happen to have sex together. Lots of sex.”

Thatch whined again.

“What you two are is _impossible_ ,” he muttered.

“Care to elaborate?” Izo asked in clear amusement.

Thatch shrugged without raising his arms from the table.

“Ace said the same thing. Just without the gross sex comment.”

“And when did Ace say this?” Marco asked, leaning forward to look Thatch in the eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

Marco’s plans to let Ace deal with whatever was in his mind by himself were shot to hell the following day. As anyone who had spent any amount of time on a ship could attest to, there was no worse place for gossip than a pirate ship. Thatch had apparently decided to ask around about Ace, and so had Izo. The news that very few people had seen Ace in the last few days —and it would seem that nobody had actually spoken to him in that time— spread like wildfire, including the fact that he hadn’t been sleeping in his assigned room or Marco’s, and Marco was forced to intervene before anyone else decided to try to corner Ace or came up with any other brilliant idea like that.

Marco set Izo to the task of making sure nobody tried to look for Ace —she added a few threats to the order, just in case— and left to find him herself.

Ace seemed to have a thing for rarely-used storage rooms.

Marco knocked on the closed door and didn’t wait for a response before speaking.

“Ace? Half of the crew is about ready to start a search party for you. Is everything fine?”

There was a snort from inside, something Marco took as a good sign, and Ace didn’t take long to open the door with a sheepish little grin.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he assured her awkwardly. Marco held back a skeptical expression.

“Is there any particular reason you took over a storage room again?”

“I… kinda needed to think about something. I didn’t feel like going to the dorm and being teased mercilessly, so…” Ace shrugged.

It was a good point —had Ace shown up at the dorm, there would have been tons of comments about an argument with Marco— and Marco nodded.

“Okay, I’ll tell the others to give you some space,” Marco decided. She knew the importance of needing some space for oneself from time to time, and that was hard to come by in a crew of a thousand people. “Is there anything you need? Something you forgot to get down here?”

“No,” Ace said, shaking his head, “but I actually wanted to talk to you. I just… I was trying to figure out a way to do it.”

Marco blinked, slightly nonplussed. Not getting anywhere near her for three days made it considerably more difficult for Ace to accomplish that.

“Speaking usually helps.” When Ace didn’t snort, Marco knew it was serious.

Ace stepped back to free the entrance, gesturing for Marco to walk in. She did, and Ace closed the door again. Marco didn’t speak, letting Ace settle on however he wanted to start, and instead she threw a very dubious look at the pile of blankets in one corner.

“So…” Ace said after a long pause, “Thatch said something the other day that got me thinking. He called me your boyfriend, and I…” Ace trailed off, and it took Marco a moment to understand.

Oh.

_Oh_.

Of course, it made sense. This had started as a crush on Ace’s part, mere sexual attraction towards someone he hadn’t even _liked_ at the time. They may have become friends since then, but that didn’t mean anything else, and Ace wasn’t the sort of guy to lead someone on. Marco… appreciated the honesty, even if, despite what she had told Thatch, she had forgotten this was only sex at some point.

Marco made herself shrug.

“It’s fine, we don’t have to be anything more than friends.”

“No!” Ace yelled, looking startled. “That’s not what I mean! It’s just…” Ace rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, Marco, I’d like to be more than friends who fuck, if you do?” he asked, looking almost uncertain, and Marco nodded. She wasn’t sure if she stayed silent out of shock, curiosity, or relief. Probably a mix of all three of them. “Yeah, so I’d really like that, but I haven’t been entirely honest with you. There’s something about me you should know before you agree to that. I really don’t want to lie to you.”

Ace looked more unsure of himself than he ever had. Marco took a step closer to him, but refrained from reaching out to touch him. She had a feeling he wouldn’t find it reassuring right now.

“What is it?” she asked instead.

Ace visibly steeled himself.

“What would you say if I told you my birth name was Gol D. Ace?”

Marco blinked.

Gol D. Ace.

Gol D.

_Gol D. Roger_.

“You’re Roger’s son?” she asked.

The math didn’t add up, Ace had just turned eighteen and it had been a few months over nineteen years since Roger was executed, but she could tell that Ace was telling the truth. Now wasn’t the time to ask about the numbers.

Ace nodded, and he averted his eyes. It was obvious that he wasn’t proud of this fact.

_As if changing his own name isn’t proof enough of that_ , Marco admonished herself.

“I would tell you that it doesn’t matter. Whoever your parents are doesn’t change who _you_ are.”

Ace’s eyes snapped back to her, and he looked so surprised that Marco wanted to hug him.

“But wasn’t he your enemy?” he asked, sounding as if he was lost. Maybe he was, who knew what sort of stories he had grown up hearing to be this insecure when he was usually so sure of himself. Maybe this was even why he had come after Pops in the first place.

“Not really. But even if he had been our enemy, it still wouldn’t matter. You’re not him.”

Ace still looked uncertain, so Marco took the two steps separating them and hugged him. Ace was tense for a moment before he relaxed and wrapped his arms around her. He mumbled something into her hair that sounded suspiciously like a ‘thank you’.

“Does this mean you’re done hiding now?” Marco asked, hoping to steer Ace’s mind to more cheerful thoughts.

“I wasn’t _hiding_.”

“Sure,” she agreed glibly, and turned her head to place a kiss on his neck.

Marco was fairly certain that Ace rolled his eyes then, even if she couldn’t see his face.

“What do I tell the crew? Because you _know_ they’re going to ask, and I don’t want to tell them about, well, _him_.” Ace clearly had a lot of issues about Roger that he would have to address eventually, but today wasn’t the time. Besides, Roger may have been a suicidal nutjob, but he had been a good guy, and he didn’t deserve to be disliked so much by his own son.

“You tell them it’s nothing of their business, and if anybody insists I’ll be happy to assign them to bathroom cleaning duty for the remainder of the year.”

“Oh, wow, that’s sweet,” Ace joked. He finally pulled back and looked at her, and Marco was glad to notice that most of the tension had left his face. “Does this mean I can move in with you?”

“I thought you already had.”

 

* * *

 

 

As a general rule, the Whitebeard Pirates weren’t known for pulling many crazy stunts. Or, more accurately, they hadn’t been known for doing it in the last couple of decades, ever since their position had been so well established that even the World Government had stopped actively trying to capture them. The fact that their more wild days of adventures were long in the past, accompanied by their status as living legends, meant that people tended to think of the crew as a serious group. Rumors outside the New World weren’t especially kind as to their activities, but in this sea it was a well known fact that the Whitebeard Pirates did not target civilians or even other crews without cause. Even marines were mostly safe unless they did something they should have thought twice about doing.

It was impressive how many people managed to land themselves firmly on the Whitebeard Pirates’ bad side despite everything.

Usually, the entire crew —or a part of it if there weren’t enough opponents— would go after whoever their target was and have a good time fighting, but today they had a message to send. That was the reason why the Moby Dick anchored well on sight of the island, but too far away from it that almost no one could reach it without a boat, and only Marco took off from the deck in her phoenix form, with Ace riding on her back.

There was a marine base taking up a good portion of the coast next to a small port town, and the marines were in full panicked mode, getting ready to fight, when Marco flew over the base’s port.

Ace made quick work of the ships there by dropping a few pillars of fire on them, and they landed in the middle of the teeming port, Marco transforming as soon as Ace was on his feet.

The marines stared in silent horror as Ace slid a backpack off his shoulders and handed it over to Marco before he took a few steps forward.

“So,” Ace started before any marines could snap out of their shock, his voice delightfully cheerful, “I hear you bastards have been harassing the merchant ships from our nearby territories.”

Marco looked around the port for a serviceable crate and sat on it. By the time the first marine reacted and charged at Ace, she had opened the backpack and pulled out one of the bags of popcorn that Thatch had packed for her.

By this time tomorrow, the news that Fire Fist Ace had joined the Whitebeard Pirates would be all over the cover page of the newspaper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it for Children of the Sea. More of this verse in A Sibling’s Love, which you can find on this same series :D
> 
> You can imagine Garp flipping out when he hears about that stunt :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Children of the Sea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8020981) by [zelga04](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zelga04/pseuds/zelga04)




End file.
